Page 60 of The Lost Husband

“Why doesn’t anyone think I can walk?” Avi groans from his arms. I’m not sure she can. She’s been so weak from whatever virus has been clinging to her insides.

Elias sets her on her feet, keeping his arm around her back and beneath her arms. “I can walk,” she argues again, a wet cough following.

I move to her side. “How are you feeling?”

“Like my blood has turned into solid ice. Even my nostrils are frozen, which is helping my runny nose. My head seems disconnected from my body.”

I remove my blanket and drape it over her head to give her another layer of warmth. “You need to fight this off more than I need warmth right now.”

We curve around the rails, finding no sight of a switch house or maintenance shed. But at least we’re still walking. I suspectmy legs will eventually give out, but the more distance we can cover now, the better.

Christoph cranes his head forward, squinting toward something in the distance. All I see are trees. He hurries past us in a slow jog, making his way around the bend and disappearing around the other side without a word.

“Your friend seems to know what he’s doing,” Avi says.

Elias moves along ahead of us, working to catch up with Christoph. And as slow as the two of us are moving, I begin to question why they haven’t returned as we near the bend. Before I can think of a single response, the sight of steel appears first, a rusty edge slicing through a tall mound of snow. Three railcars tipped onto their sides sit half buried, their doors hanging open like mouths of the deceased.

Christoph and Elias are poking their heads through the open door of the third cart. Christoph leaps in, a clamber of knees against metal echoes between the bare trees. He slides back out a moment later. “Let’s get them in there,” he breathlessly calls out to Elias. “We can’t keep going without rest.” He’s watching as we approach with a troubled look on his face.

Avi coughs, grabbing onto my shoulder for support. The sound is violent, tearing out of her chest, echoing off the steel. She shakes uncontrollably. I won’t try and convince them to keep moving tonight. Avi needs to rest. She needs to get better, and I need to pray we can still somehow make it to the freight line before the Soviet column does.

Elias swears under his breath before pulling her away from me, bracing her body against him as her knees give out.

“Avi!” I shout, lunging toward Elias as if I could help. I don’t think much will help her right now, not even whatever form of shelter this is. It’s a wreckage at best.

“I need to get her inside,” Elias says, breathlessly before scooping her up and forging toward the entrance of the railcar.

The entrance is a dark hole, foreboding, outlined with blackened rust. Inside, something flickers with an orange glow. Not steady. Not safe.

Fire.

My chest tightens. My throat closes.

“No,” I gasp, stumbling backward, falling into the snow. “No, no, no?—”

Heat rushes against my face. My skin prickles from the violent contrast of hot and cold. The air thickens into ash, something too familiar and unforgettable.

I clamp my hand around my throat as if a noose is tightening. A scream tears out of me before I can stop it, ferocious enough to knock icicles from the trees.

Hands grasp my arms.

Steel shrieks against steel, slicing into my ears.

“Celina!”

Christoph’s voice cuts through the high-pitched ringing.

I jerk my arm from his grip, shaking my head, my body collapsing sideways into the wet snow.

The railcar moans and cries. It could be someone shouting in the distance. I can’t tell anymore.

“I—I don’t want to—I don’t want to be burned,” I shriek. “I don’t want to be burned alive.”

“There’s—there’s no fire,” Christoph says, and it sounds as if he’s trying to convince himself as much as me. “Come on, let’s get inside.”

Nobody is coming after us. There’s no fire yet.

Yet.